


vapor trail vision

by leighleleigh



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-15 23:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21261440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighleleigh/pseuds/leighleleigh
Summary: Claude wants Dimitri to enthrall him and use him. This goes as well as to be expected.





	vapor trail vision

**Author's Note:**

> read the end notes for content warnings and author's notes.

Dimitri says love and food shouldn’t be mixed, and Claude lets it go because it’s the first time Dimitri has told him he loves him. 

He doesn’t forget about it though. If Claude is to identify a fatal flaw within himself, it’s insatiable curiosity. He’s devoured every bit of information he can since he’s learned what Dimitri is, both from what Dimitri is willing to tell him and what he’s had to find on his own. He’s learned that creatures like Dimitri -- those  _ born  _ with a need for blood rather than  _ turned  _ \-- look human enough, but when all the layers are pulled back and their tender underbelly is exposed, they operate on animal instinct. Dimitri is good at pretending to be human. He’s had years and years to practice -- probably more years than Claude will ever know about. But, when push comes to shove, Claude sees the dark glimmer in Dimitri’s eyes, and knows it’s only a matter of choosing the right words, framing it the right way, for Dimitri to give in and agree. 

In Claude’s personal quest for knowledge, he’s built a small collection of old books that Dimitri has approved of as reliable source material. The spines are cracked and illegible, the binding held loosely together with some sections entirely removed and tucked in the covers so as not to be lost. It’s these dilapidated books that first mention it:  _ Thrall _ . It’s stylized with importance any time Claude comes across it. Dimitri has said time and time again that vampires aren’t magic, but  _ Thrall  _ sounds like it’s lifted from pulp fantasy novels or niche porn. 

_ A Vampyr’s ability to feed is largely based on his ability to enthrall his victims. By placing a Thrall upon his victim, a Vampyr can impress his will upon his prey, inducing total submission and ensuring an easy meal for itself,  _ or so this Rodrigue Fraldarius claims. His book on vampires is the smallest, but it’s the only one that actually attempts to describe what a  _ Thrall  _ is. Claude likens it to the same functionality of an anglerfish’s lure: to draw people in while the monster lies in shadow, waiting. Once — and Claude knows this from Fraldarius’s book,  _ not  _ Dimitri — vampires would keep humans as pets, enthralling them into submission and complacency. That stirs a desire that Claude keeps far, far back in his mind.

Claude is insatiably curious, so, of course, he can’t stop thinking about it. He imagines what that might entail, total submission at Dimitri’s behest. He pictures himself on his knees at Dimitri’s feet, or arching beneath him on that ridiculously massive bed of his. He dreams about Dimitri fucking into him, filling him up, sinking his teeth in Claude’s throat as he does. He wakes most days with sticky briefs and feels like a teenager all over again. 

The first time Claude asks, Dimitri looks like he’s been slapped across the face. He denies the request immediately, cuts their date short by a few hours, and steadfastly avoids Claude until they’re both miserable from separation. 

When they make up, Claude learns that Dimitri thinks the old ways of doing things were barbaric and beastly. He abhors the thought of keeping people as pets, and especially detests the idea of using Claude as a source of food. He says this all with a stern expression, but there’s a hint of pink around the rims of his ears that betrays his own interest. 

When Claude asks a second time, that’s when Dimitri tells him that love and food are mutually exclusive. Claude ignores his burning desire for knowledge in favor of his burning desire to kiss Dimitri senseless. They tumble back to his place and Dimitri fucks him tenderly into the bed. Claude wakes up sore from the corners of books sticking into his back and with his neck craned at a weird angle, but Dimitri is beside him, so Claude thinks the tradeoff is worth it. 

He continues to pester Dimitri about it throughout the following weeks, changing his approach from direct confrontation to peppered hints and coy suggestions. This seems to go over better than asking for it. Dimitri doesn’t lecture him again. Instead, he frowns, and furrows his brow, and sighs. When Claude is paying close enough attention — and he always is — he sees a flash of something dangerous in Dimitri’s eyes. 

Dimitri wants it too. 

Claude knows he does. He’s intimately familiar with the way Dimitri looks when he wants something: the way his fingers twitch and tighten, the way his eyes go dark. It’s what he looks like in the split second before they kiss. It’s how he looks when Claude takes him in his mouth. Desperate. Starving. 

Claude is sure it’s only a matter of time before Dimitri lets go. He’s sure it will come with rules and conditions, but if that’s what it takes Claude is willing to give. He doesn’t have the sense that he’s in over his head. He doesn’t think about what might happen if Dimitri is right, if crossing that line will be something they can’t return from. He can only think of how badly he wants this; how badly he wants Dimitri to use him, to  _ own _ him. 

It’s playing dirty, but when Claude finally asks again, he does it astride Dimitri’s hips. He’s pulling away from a bent-over kiss when he says it. There’s a long moment when Dimitri doesn’t respond, and Claude wonders if he’s going to pretend he hasn’t heard anything, like a sour open secret. 

“...Claude…” 

There, the fingers tighten. There, the eyes flash. 

Dimitri breathes out slow, but his grip on Claude doesn’t let up. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he finally bites out. 

Claude reaches down to hold either side of Dimitri’s face. “I do,” he says. “I really do.” 

Dimitri’s expression wavers, a sign of his crumbling resolve. “...I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t.” Claude doesn’t actually know if this is true, but he believes it. Or, he believes Dimitri might hurt him a little, but not in any way he won’t enjoy. “I love you. I  _ trust _ you. I … I want all of you. Every good part, every bad part —  _ I want it all. _ ”

Dimitri stares up at Claude with wide eyes. He’s not surprised when Dimitri surges up to kiss him. He’s a little surprised when Dimitri flips them so that he hovers over Claude, knees stretched on either side of his waist. 

“Do you mean that?” Dimitri whispers. 

He sounds extraordinarily fragile in this moment. Claude can’t even entertain the thought of teasing him. He cups Dimitri’s face again and hopes that his own expression is as genuine as he feels. “I mean it,” he says. “I love you. I’ll love every part of you.” He allows himself a little smile. “I’m greedy. I want everything you can give me.” 

Dimitri shudders above him. Claude doesn’t know if it’s the intense declaration or the thought of his own instincts being matched that strikes a chord with Dimitri, but it’s clear he’s not unaffected. “...okay,” he finally rasps. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

Dimitri licks his lips, and Claude sees a flash of sharp teeth as Dimitri bends down over him. “Okay.” 

Claude feels teeth at throat.

He’s pulled under.

  
  


Consciousness evades Claude like cold breath misting in the wind. He thinks it’s been a week since he’s been able to stay awake for more than a few hours at a time, but he isn’t sure. His memories are like fireworks: vivid colors bursting in his mind before trailing off into gray smoke. He remembers streaks of blue from the heavy canopy strung around Dimitri’s bed, from the blankets he’s buried beneath, from Dimitri’s eyes just before they turn red with hunger. Dimitri’s golden hair above him shining like a star, like the sun, like a crown. Red lips. Red tongue. 

Claude sleeps, or drifts at least, on a fog that feels like the blurry limbo of falling asleep slowly. He hears things sometimes; he doesn’t understand the words, but the tone is always soft, always coaxing. He feels fingers brush over his face, down the bridge of his nose, across the seam of his lips. He’s moved around: held close to a firm chest, curled into the length of a cool body, cradled in strong arms. He feels like he’s been drugged. He can’t focus. He can focus, but only when Dimitri helps him. 

A tiny, far-off part of him knows this isn’t healthy. Dimitri is taking too much from him. He’s feeding too often. He’s bitten Claude so many times that there’s more venom in his veins than blood. He thinks about telling Dimitri this, but his silver tongue has turned to lead. 

“--with me?” 

Claude blinks. He feels it in slow motion. Dimitri’s ceiling -- darkness -- Dimitri’s ceiling again, this time with Dimitri’s face hovering above his. 

“Are you with me?” Dimitri asks, his voice the cadence of a question being repeated. 

Claude blinks again, lethargic but awake. “Hi.” It’s a silly thing to say, but Dimitri seems relieved by it. 

“Hello.” Dimitri touches the side of Claude’s face with a cold hand. It doesn’t make him flinch but he feels the chill seep into his skin. “I brought you something to eat.” 

He helps Claude sit up, though Claude is only able to do so thanks to the pillows propped up behind him. Claude doesn’t know where the food comes from. It’s just there between blinks, a few innocuous bowls on a serving tray balanced on the bed beside Dimitri’s thigh. Claude rubs his bleary eyes, saying nothing as Dimitri tucks a sheet around his waist. There’s a part of him that thinks it’s a little funny that Dimitri insists on covering him up during meals. Or, not funny exactly, but peculiar. 

Claude isn’t a slow eater, but Dimitri makes his meal last much longer than it has to. He has an odd fascination with watching Claude eat. Dimitri likes to feed him, too, but Claude doesn’t enjoy that as much. Offering handheld foods is fine, but when Dimitri lifts a glass to his mouth he feels more like a child than a lover. Thankfully, Dimitri doesn’t seem in the mood for that tonight. He holds Claude’s hand and tells him uninteresting stories about his day: the long commute from the manor to campus, the material they covered in their shared anthropology course. Gods, Claude hasn’t even thought of class. He wonders if, by the time this all ends, he’ll have been dropped for truancy. 

He lets Dimitri feed him the last bite of roasted potato by hand because he’s gone soft, and because Dimitri looks so pleased to be asked. Dimitri kisses Claude on the cheek as he chews and swallows, then slips out of reach. 

Claude lets himself stretch out as Dimitri gets off the bed and removes the tray. As always, Dimitri brings him far too much food for the amount of activity he’s been doing. He feels drowsy and sated but he can’t let himself fall asleep again. He knows the evening is far from over. He struggles out of bed, unused to feeling flat ground beneath his feet, and works to untangle himself from the bedsheet Dimitri has swathed him in. 

Dimitri doesn’t offer to help him this time. He’s learned Claude tolerates only certain kinds of pampering; the line between being spoiled and being mothered is one Dimitri seems to balance on. He wants to take care of Claude in every way; he’ll acquiesce to Claude’s limits, but he doesn’t pretend to agree with them. Claude wonders if that trait is a vampire thing, or if it’s all Dimitri. 

Claude follows him to the bathroom on his own, leaning against the doorway and fighting shivers as Dimitri leans over the large tub to run the bath. He’s more sensitive to things these days, so the slightly chilled air raises bumps along his arms, which he wraps around his waist. Soon enough, the tub is filled with steaming water and bubbles, the subtle notes of lemongrass and spice coming from the water. Claude lets Dimitri help him over the ledge of the tub. He sinks below the water with a sigh, sliding down the back of the bath until the bubbles curl around his chin. 

He soaks for a while, curling his toes beneath the water to feel fresh heat. He thinks he could fall asleep like this, Dimitri watching over him to make sure he stays above water. It’s like a little node of paradise. 

Eventually, Dimitri nudges Claude to sit up straight and begins to wash him. This bit of pampering, Claude doesn’t mind. It feels good when Dimitri runs his fingers across his scalp, working a cleanser into his hair until it lathers. He doesn’t even mind when Dimitri puts a hand over his eyes for protection while he pours water over his head to rinse out the product. It’s a little embarrassing when Dimitri continues to wash the rest of his body with a wool sponge, moreso because Dimitri leaves no part of him untouched. He lifts Claude’s legs out of the water to scrub the bottoms of his feet. He doesn’t care about getting his own clothes wet if it means reaching under the water to sponge softly over Claude’s dick. He even traces a finger between Claude’s buttocks, wiggling it inside and fucking him slowly with it, taking advantage of the way the hot water relaxes Claude’s body. 

But Dimitri’s intention isn’t to take Claude in the bath. He pulls away before Claude gets hard, rinsing off his hands and helping him out of the bath and onto the fluffy matt where he wraps a large towel around him and dries him off. He directs Claude to sit on a nearby cushioned stool as he drains the bathwater and disappears back into the bedroom. Claude knows Dimitri is arranging things for what’s about to occur: adding extra pillows to the bed, moving the bottle of iron supplements to the nightstand so it will be easily located in the morning, locking the balcony doors and pulling the curtains closed. 

Claude only waits a few minutes before he gets up, leaving the towel behind. He sits himself on the edge of the bed, heels resting up on the cold floorboards, and watches Dimitri fuss. When Dimitri is satisfied, he shifts gears, bending first to kiss Claude’s damp hair, then to crouch at his knees. He holds one of Claude’s hands in his own, running his thumb over Claude’s knuckles, and squeezes his thigh with the other. 

When Dimitri looks up at him, his eyes are stained red. “Claude… I need… I want…”

This part is the hardest for Dimitri. He doesn’t like to voice his needs. He doesn’t know how to ask for what he wants without stumbling over his words. There’s a large part of Dimitri that wants to just  _ take _ , but Dimitri fights to be a gentlemen until the bitter end. 

“Do you mind,” Dimitri manages softly, “if I partake?”

_ Partake _ . Like Dimitri is living in some medieval manor and Claude is his company of the evening. He supposes it’s better than Dimitri referring to him as dinner, but there’s something appealing to Claude about thinking of himself as a meal. 

He’s been silent for too long. Dimitri, fearing rejection, asks again, his voice a quiet plea. “ _ Claude _ . I--.” 

“Yes,” Claude says. “Yes.” 

He’s got his back pressed to the mattress before he knows it, Dimitri on and over him like a pouncing beast. 

It hurts. It always hurts, at first. Dimitri’s eyeteeth are small and sharp, but when he feeds they lengthen and curl ever-so-slightly, nothing like the needle-straight fangs of mass-market vampires. They’re predator’s teeth, meant to pierce deep into the skin, to hold prey in place and make it difficult to escape, to rip tender throats to gorey shreds in a struggle. Claude fists his hands in Dimitri’s damp shirt, pulling aimlessly at the material. He isn’t trying to dislodge Dimitri -- doesn’t have the strength to do so anyway. His eyes water reflexively, heart thumping faster as his body shifts rapidly through fight or flight responses. It’s too much. It’s always too much. Dimitri thinks he can handle it, but he  _ can’t _ , he never  _ can-- _ .

It hurts until it doesn’t.

His throat goes numb where Dimitri’s teeth are buried, then begins to tingle with a pins-and-needles sensation that spreads down to his collarbone. It’s the same feeling that runs down his spine when Dimitri’s fingers scrape across his scalp through his hair, a surge of pleasant shivers cresting through his limbs. His fingers go slack, arms sliding down until his elbows dig into the mattress, a loose facsimile of a hug around Dimitri’s back. When Claude’s head drops back against the bed, Dimitri follows, curling over him and holding tight. 

Claude loses time here. His head swims and buzzes with equal parts blood loss and pleasure. His eyes are closed but colors dance in his vision. He’s numb and shuddering, nerves alight with sensations that are bigger than him. 

When time starts again, Dimitri’s nose is pressed up against his neck. He’s flush against Claude in every way he can be: legs tangled together, arms wrapped around him, a prominent warm bulge pressed against his thigh. Claude’s throat feels cold where Dimitri has been feeding, a side-effect he’s grown accustomed to. 

Even through the haze, Claude has learned Dimitri has different reactions to being well-fed. There are times he rolls off Claude and curls into his side like a satisfied house cat, falling asleep with pink cheeks and an eased brow. Other times, he mutters dark things to himself about enemies and shadows and ghosts while he strokes Claude’s hair. 

Mostly, Dimitri falls into baser instincts. He stakes his territory; he claims what’s his. 

Dimitri’s fingers are blood-warm when he reaches between Claude’s legs. He traces lightly over Claude’s soft cock, dipping under to rub slow circles around his rim. With his immediate hunger sated, Dimitri’s fangs are small and straight as they nip at Claude’s throat, a teething sort of motion that doesn’t break skin but sends little shivers down Claude’s spine. Claude barely has the air to groan as Dimitri sinks a finger inside of him. His movements are firm and familiar, pressing down to the knuckle without pause.

Claude doesn’t know how many times they’ve done this, but it’s enough that his body offers no resistance. He thinks if Dimitri reaches far enough he might feel what he’s already spent in Claude from the last time, however long or short ago it was. It’s an illogical thought — Dimitri cleans him thoroughly in the bath every time he’s awake — but it sparks heat Claude’s veins. He wonders if Dimitri would want to do that some day … to fill him up again and again so Claude can feel it days later. 

Now, Dimitri moves his finger in and out at a steady pace, teeth grazing the sluggish vein at Claude’s neck. Claude shifts on the sheets, one arm trapped beneath Dimitri, the other shooting up to grab at the pillows above his head. He snags the loose corner of a pillowcase and holds tight. Dimitri licks a long line up Claude’s throat as he slides a second finger alongside the first. Claude isn’t sure which sensation to focus on - the slight burn or the sharp tug as Dimitri’s teeth find his earlobe. 

His mouth falls open as Dimitri resumes biting along his jaw and throat. Dimitri’s fingers stretch and twist slowly, stoking the heat in Claude’s stomach. He shifts to drag his mouth down Claude’s chest, nosing over a nipple before laving it over with his tongue. Claude sucks in air through his teeth, gooseflesh rippling across his skin. He’s sensitive there, but the venom lingering in his veins heightens that sensation, and Dimitri knows it. Needles settle on the skin just above before Dimitri bites down, closing his mouth around Claude’s chest and sucking.  _ Nnnnggg _ . It feels good. Good enough to forget that Dimitri probably shouldn’t bite him so soon after feeding. Good enough to forget anything that isn’t Dimitri’s fingers and tongue. 

Dimitri’s fingers shift and curl and Claude sees stars. He arches clear off the bed, but escape isn’t an option. Dimitri doesn’t let up, fucking his fingers against that same spot until Claude is a shuddering mess. His moans are incoherent, eventually twisting out into whimpers. His cock has stirred and filled and curved up against his belly, drooling lazily with each twist of Dimitri's fingers. 

He chants something -- Dimitri’s name? -- but all he can hear is the visceral noise of Dimitri’s teeth leaving his skin. Dimitri licks over his nipple once more before leaning in for a kiss. Claude opens his mouth eagerly, groaning as Dimitri’s wet tongue slides inside. It’s a filthy fucking kiss. Dimitri devours him through it, then coaxes Claude to push his own tongue inside Dimitri’s mouth. Claude feels the hint of teeth before Dimitri nips at him. He feels Dimitri’s tongue slide over his own with a sting before he starts to suck on it, coaxing every drop of blood he can from the new bite.

Breathing feels like a foreign concept by the time Dimitri pulls away. Claude takes short, deep breaths to fill his lungs. He thinks Dimitri is coming in for another kiss, but Claude feels his tongue trace down his chin instead. It takes his addled brain too long to realize Dimitri is licking up saliva.  _ Oh, fuck _ . Heat sings down his spine. 

He whines when Dimitri pulls his fingers out, hips rocking back to chase them. Dimitri’s hand grips the tender skin of his inner thigh, squeezing hard enough to leave a bruise, knocking the breath from him in a single move. 

“Dima…” Claude groans. He doesn’t have the presence of mind to use his full name. 

Dimitri hushes him, pressing light kisses across his chest as he moves, kneeling between Claude’s open legs. He stares down at Claude with blown-black eyes, giving him the slowest once-over that Claude thinks he’s ever received. He must look a mess, covered in sweat and drying blood and bite marks. 

Even so, Dimitri sounds  _ wrecked _ , like the sight alone is enough to push him to his limit. “Claude … I need … I want …” 

Claude can’t spread his legs much wider, but he tries. “Take it,” he says. “It’s yours. I’m yours.”  _ Usemeusemeuseme _ \--.

Dimitri groans, and Claude isn’t sure if it’s rooted in possession or if he’s spoken aloud without meaning to. He watches through his lashes as Dimitri takes his erection in hand, pumping himself with jerky movements, thumbing over his slit to smear precum around and over the thick head of his cock. 

He doesn’t wait long to move, arranging Claude’s hips the way he likes before positioning himself firmly between them. He presses the tip of his cock at Claude’s entrance, shifting just enough that Claude can feel himself flutter at the pressure. Dimitri slides his hands up the underside of Claude’s legs, hooking beneath his knees and holding his legs up and out of the way. 

Dimitri pushes in slow. Again, it feels like too much. Claude is torn between squirming away and rocking back against him. His nerves are tingling and burning, his spine rigid with pleasure, his mouth caught open on a soundless moan. He feels  _ full  _ and Dimitri is still going, still pushing himself inside, his cock stretching Claude beyond what two fingers could have prepared him for. He bites his lip to stop himself from making noise, unsure if it will be a groan or yell that comes out. He clenches down on instinct and shivers at the feel of Dimitri inside of him, at how wide he’s stretched open from just the head. 

Dimitri’s head is bowed, attention solely focused on where he sinks inside of Claude. His fingers are vices under Claude’s knees. Claude adds them to the count of bruises that litter his skin. They’ll match the ones on his thighs, and the ones framing his waist. He wonders if Dimitri would be willing to give him some around his neck -- Claude is incredibly keen on that idea.

Dimitri murmurs something under his breath, too low for Claude to hear, before he shirks decorum and thrusts the rest of himself in to the hilt in one hard push. Claude’s head hits the mattress again with a cushioned thunk, both hands grasping and gripping the sheets. He feels like he’s already teetering on the brink of orgasm, clenching around Dimitri’s girth and nearly losing it. He has to reach down and squeeze himself tight at the base to stave off the urge. 

“No.” There’s a heavy weight to Dimitri’s tone, one that Claude has become intimately familiar with over the course of the week.  _ Thrall _ . “I want you to come.” 

Claude breathes harshly through his nose. It’s like Dimitri wants him to be pushed beyond his limits. Well. He knows that’s what Dimitri wants. He may have the looks and demeanor of a gentle prince, but deep down, Dimitri wants to make him cry.

Claude wants to give that to him. Claude wants to give everything to him. 

It doesn’t take much. He doesn’t even have to pump himself. He lets go as Dimitri pulls out, and when Dimitri pushes back in, the stretch and slide and graze against his prostate send him over the edge. He comes with a cry, spending across his stomach in pulsing spurts. 

Claude is still shaking and clenching when Dimitri starts to fuck him in earnest. This time it really  _ is  _ too much. Claude squirms beneath him immediately, shuddering with every push in, whimpering with every pull out. He tries to close his knees on instinct but Dimitri’s grip is strong. If anything, Dimitri holds his legs open wider when he feels the tension run through Claude’s legs. He’s overwhelmed, but a vicious little part of him feels validated by Dimitri’s mean-streak. 

Claude jolts when Dimitri smacks the inside of his thigh.  _ Oh _ . He’s never done that before. The sting rings across his skin and his cock makes a valiant effort to stir. Firmly, Dimitri tells him, “Be a good boy and hold yourself open for me.” 

Claude obeys without thinking. He hooks his hands beneath his knees, fingers brushing over Dimitri’s before Dimitri pulls away. He takes gasping breaths as Dimitri shifts, running one hand over Claude’s messy abdomen before settling on the bed on either side of his waist. It changes the angle in the best and worst way, sending painful arcs of pleasure through Claude’s body. 

Dimitri fucks him with deep, hard thrusts. He pulls nearly all the way out before thrusting back in, letting Claude clench around his cockhead without fully leaving his body. Claude’s mind is empty and buzzing all at once, the sounds of Dimitri groaning and the wet slap of skin almost as loud as his racing heart. He can barely hear himself whimper and whine. He feels his eyes sting as his body bounces rapidly between pleasure and pain, overstimulation confusing his nerves and his soft cock. He chokes on a dry sob in response to a particularly harsh thrust, legs lowering to the bed until Dimitri notices and reprimands him. 

When Dimitri reaches down to stroke him, Claude really does start to cry. His tears spill over the corners of his eyes, running down his temples and mixing with his sweat-damp hair. He opens his mouth, thinks of saying  _ no no no _ , but the ragged voice that comes from his throat begs, “ _ Please please please _ \--”

He misses the usual tells that signify Dimitri’s approaching orgasm because of his own. Dimitri pumps him back to hardness and doesn’t stop, moving his hand in time with his thrusts, occasionally flicking his fingers over the head or thumbing the slit. Claude comes again in no time at all, orgasm hitting him like a freight train, knocking the breath from his lungs and whiting out his vision. He’s distantly aware of Dimitri stroking him through it, groaning his name, burying himself deep as he fills Claude up. 

Claude drifts fuzzily as the world shifts around him. He’s unaware of Dimitri smoothing his hands down his legs, rubbing and kneading the muscles of his thighs. He doesn’t feel Dimitri wipe away his tears or push back his hair. He can’t hear Dimitri’s adoring compliments and praises.

His awareness returns when Dimitri pulls out of him. His face scrunches up, both in discomfort and displeasure. He prefers it when Dimitri stays inside him until he softens and slips out naturally. 

Dimitri presses closed-mouth kisses to his neck and jaw as he rubs a hand over Claude’s stomach in soothing back-and-forth motions. He doesn’t ask if Claude is okay, but he watches him closely as he regains his senses. He continues to rub Claude’s stomach when they kiss, all fluttering lashes and pink cheeks as they come down from their respective highs. 

They don’t speak as Dimitri arranges them in a new position, moved over from the mess on the sheets and curled up in each other, the mountain of pillows plush beneath and around them. Dimitri has moved his hand from Claude’s stomach to his hip, rubbing circles with his thumb. 

Claude briefly considers asking Dimitri to carry him to the bath, but the thought of waking up with Dimitri’s spend leaking out of him isn’t enough of a deterrent from sleep itself. He’s comfortable here, even with all the aching limbs and sore muscles. Dimitri is beside him, so the tradeoff is worth it. 

He’s almost asleep when he hears Dimitri ask, “Will you say it again?” 

It’s a struggle to keep himself from going under. “What?” he murmurs. He’s said a lot of things tonight, and several are things he’ll only repeat in the heat of the moment. 

Dimitri doesn’t respond. Claude wonders if he’s fallen asleep until: “...that you belong to me.” Despite everything, Dimitri sounds embarrassed to be asking. 

Claude doesn’t think those were the exact words that had come out of his mouth, but hearing Dimitri say it that way strikes a warm feeling in his chest. “I do,” he says, though his words are slurred from exhaustion and being a step away from sleep. “I’m yours.”

_ And you’re mine _ , he thinks. He doesn’t know if Thralls in the olden days were two-way streets, but the one between them is. When he wakes, Dimitri will bring him a bountiful meal, will feed him and bathe him, will rub cooling gel over the teeth marks on his skin, will fret over him and kiss him and treat him like something delicate and precious. 

Dimitri will never treat anyone else this way. This, only Claude gets to experience. 

Now, Claude falls asleep in Dimitri’s arms, vapor-trail dreams curling in his head. 

**Author's Note:**

> content warnings: possible dubious consent in that Claude is under the influence of vampire venom and "thrall" despite asking for it. 
> 
> title from 'vampire love' by ash.  
in this au I imagine Rodrigue was a nobleman who took an interest in studying vampires, wrote a book, got turned into a vampire, wrote a sex manual for vampires, then lived the rest of his unlife peacefully with his two turned sons.  
this is also a modern au. I imagine Claude and Dimitri first met in a 4000-level anthro class because they both have a keen interest in studying people (for very different reasons)  
i'm posting this from work so forgive any glaring errors, i'm on a tight schedule here.  
happy halloween!
> 
> **edit 11.02:** totally forgot to mention that the idea for this story was inspired by the “Carry On” fic Pet by SHARKMARTINI!


End file.
